


(put your) sweet lips on my lips

by troubadore



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Canon Universe, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, just soff boys being soff yall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:13:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24293407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troubadore/pseuds/troubadore
Summary: It's something they've settled into recently, this gentle, easy rhythm where they don't worry about what's ahead or what's behind, simply living in the moment.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 144





	(put your) sweet lips on my lips

**Author's Note:**

> its summertime ive got my hat on backwards and its time ~~for lots of domestic geraskier fluff~~ to fuckin party

Summer is finally taking root over the Continent, the days growing longer and the nights warmer. Not quite uncomfortable yet, not stifling and suffocating, so they enjoy the days on the road while they can. 

They're between towns, between hunts. Somewhere in the south of Kaedwen, near Aedirn and heading west towards Redania. They've been following the Pontar, taking advantage of the cool waters, and simply  _ being.  _

It's something they've settled into recently, this gentle, easy rhythm where they don't worry about what's ahead or what's behind, simply living in the moment—something Jaskier is constantly telling Geralt he should do. 

_ It's not healthy to live so all-consumed by your past, dear heart. One day it will swallow you whole and I won't be able to pull you back out.  _

Geralt appreciates it more than he can say, though he tries to express it with his actions—he doesn't argue as much when Jaskier wants to move on, stops when Jaskier asks, tries to find things to give him that he thinks his bard will like: more ink and paper, new lute strings, a bauble or trinket, a new doublet. 

It's become easier the longer they're together, going from one end of the Continent to the other, learning each other one little thing at a time. 

Currently, they're making camp along the river, once more in a long string of days spent outdoors beneath the sun and stars. It's late afternoon, maybe a little early for camp, but they don't have anywhere to be and the clearing they've found is quiet and serene, nothing but the gentle sound of the water nearby and the chirp of birds to fill the air. 

Geralt sits on a fallen log, sword in lap and whetstone in hand. Roach grazes lazily nearby, ears flicking every now and then when a bird trills suddenly, but unconcerned. Jaskier is a few meters down at the river, a pile of their shirts in hand as he takes soap to them to wash out the worst of the sweat and dirt stains in them. 

Even with the distance between them—not much, admittedly—Geralt listens as his bard hums an upbeat tune to himself, whistling instead when the notes pick up in tempo even further. A smile, small as it is, works its way across his face, and Geralt turns back to his weapons, letting Jaskier's song lull him into contentment. 

The quiet between them stays even when Jaskier is done with the laundry, passing by Geralt with a soft touch to his back as he goes to lay it out on nearby rocks to let it dry in the last rays of afternoon light. He goes to Roach to pull out some of the jerky they'd made from the last deer Geralt had caught for their dinner, as well as bread and cheese and the little bit of fruit he'd purchased in the last town a couple days ago. 

There's still enough light that they don't need a fire just yet, and it's too warm besides. Ever unable to be quiet for more than the hours he's asleep, Jaskier is still humming, though now his tunes are softer, sweeter, love ballads instead of jigs. He's working his way to the lullabies, Geralt knows, for after they've eaten and begin to bed down. 

He comes to sit next to Geralt on the fallen log, handing over some of the jerky and bread, the cheese and fruit set between them. Geralt takes the strip offered, fingers brushing against Jaskier's, and Jaskier winks at him, before biting into his own strip. 

It makes Geralt smirk, and he leans into Jaskier to chase the salty, meaty taste of it on his lips, and Jaskier laughs and kisses back even though he's got food in his mouth and it's kind of gross. They keep their heads together after it ends, just for a moment, simply existing, simply  _ being,  _ before Jaskier pulls back and Geralt does too so they can eat. 

They don't go far, though; they stay pressed together on the log, touching from thigh to hip to shoulder, Jaskier's head tucked under Geralt's while they watch the setting sun's last light refract off the river and light it up like crystals. 

When night finally falls in full, Jaskier sets up their bedrolls while Geralt tends to Roach, giving her a few last rubs and pats before leaving her be. He turns to Jaskier, who is waiting for him with a smile, reaching out a hand when he sees Geralt is looking. 

"Come to bed, dear heart," he says, and Geralt makes his way over to take that hand in his own, letting himself be pulled into a warm embrace. 

Jaskier curls up against him, wrapping himself around Geralt like a squid with too many limbs, pushing his face into Geralt's neck and sighing contentedly. He hums softly, so quiet Geralt wouldn't have heard him without his enhanced hearing, while Geralt traces gentle circles on his skin until sleep fully claims him. 

Geralt turns his head until his nose is buried in Jaskier's hair, where he can scent him best, and lets sleep claim him, too. 

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/troubadorer) // [tumblr](http://geraltofriviasleftbuttcheek.tumblr.com)


End file.
